MENOMONEE FALLS, Wis. — Local youngster Phoebe Flax, age 9, is reportedly selling loose cigarettes alongside her delicious lemonade, according to teenagers enjoying the smooth, rich flavor of a Parliament menthol in a nearby alley.
“I admit there’s some ethical gray area here,” said Flax as she shook out a pack of Newports into a mason jar. “But the way I see it, I’m providing a service where demand already exists. Our house is on a block between the blood bank and a popular bookie, so there are a lot of desperate, thirsty folks going by who want a cup of lemonade to dump some vodka in and a butt before going home to tell their wives they’re dead broke. As for the neighborhood kids, don’t worry—I card. I don’t sell to anyone under 14.”
Phoebe’s mother is proud of her daughter’s entrepreneurial spirit, but does understand why some might see the situation as problematic.
“Do I wish she were selling candy instead? Sure. But I want to be encouraging because she’s so excited about her little business,” said Cynthia Flax as she lit a Salem Ultra Light. “A while back, I told her if you really want a bass guitar, you’ve got to raise the money yourself, and she figured out a way to do it. I am a little concerned about where she gets the cigarettes. She claims they fell off a truck. Okay, I can see that happening once or twice, maybe—but that can’t happen every week, can it? In any case, she gives me a family discount, so that’s cool.”
Precocious children like Phoebe can look forward to profitable futures in business, according to some economists.
“Most multi-millionaires started their careers running less-than-legal hustles,” said Eric Rich, contributor to Business Insider magazine. “And all billionaires definitely did terrible, depraved things to get where they are starting from an early age. For example, when Elon Musk was a child, he used to steal canes from blind people and sell them back at a markup. And the little Koch brothers used to run a protection racket on other kids, lest ‘something happen to their toys’. Phoebe’s ability to operate on the fringes of legality will be of great benefit to her if she starts her own grownup business one day.”
As of press time, the young Flax had joined forces with another enterprising child down the block who sells homemade cupcakes and Fireball nips on the side.
This album has the vibe that can best be described as: Eeyeore head-ass. In all seriousness, when people set out to roast the Mountain Goats – and they often do, even the fans – a common critique that’s brought up is that the band tends to sound whiny. And mewling. And not very… what’s the term… not-unpleasant. And that lack of pleasantness is never on display better than in “Get Lonely.” Oh, it’s a very competently produced record. There are some truly great moments on it. It has a great, spare folk sound, like Darnielle is trying to cosplay as Nick Drake. But ultimately, this is a record that feels better suited for ardent fans than newcomers.
“All Eternals Deck” is probably the most Rock-focused album the Mountain Goats ever put out. Especially with songs like “Estate Sale Sign” and “Prowl Great Cain.” It almost feels reminiscent of the pop-punk and emo music that was popular at the start of the new millennium. Except, you know, not crawling with sexual predators.
Boy oh boy we love a COVID project, don’t we? Some of us made sourdough, some of us learned guitar, some of us started podcasts. Some of us went off the absolute deep end and decided to have a… baby for whatever reason. John Darnielle decided to use the regulations and isolations of COVID-19 to record “Songs for Pierre Chuvin,” a short, abrasive and odd little album that harkens back to the band’s early, lo-fi days. There’s nothing really wrong with this album. It’s named for a dead historian, it’s got songs about pagans and hopeful assassins. It’s a great entry point to the pre- “Tallahassee” sound of the band. But still, once you’ve heard “Coroner’s Gambit” or “Sweden,” it’s very hard for this to quite measure up.
For whatever reason “Full Force Galesburg” tends to get the short end of the stick when people talk about The Mountain Goats’ lo-fi era. And sure, to be clear, it’s not the band’s best album. But it is a clear step on the way to the sound that would ultimately feature in albums like “Heretic Pride” and “In League With Dragons,” with Darnielle toning down the buzz-saw abrasiveness (in parts) for something a little more melodic and folksy. Overall, it’s a very good, if sometimes slightly boring listen. Of all the album covers we’ve gotten from The Mountain Goats, this is one of the least pleasant, with canary yellow background and appropriated Hindu art just randomly in one corner. But still, and it bears repeating… Hi, Joel.
This is an album that suffers from one problem. It front-loads a lot of its least impressive material. Specifically songs like “Heights,” which feel like meandering scribble scrabble. Like a dumb little donkey child doing a placemat maze. Still, this album is full of brave choices. Like John Darnielle, with his… John Darnielle voice, doing a cover of Blues standard “Hellhound on My Trail,” is… a choice. Playing it super uptempo is also a choice. It doesn’t not work. But it’s a choice. That being said, the opener, “Then the Letting Go” is one of the all-time best Mountain Goats songs. Beautiful and understated and not even two minutes long. Other songs like “Alpha Double Negative: Going to Catalina” are fantastic continuations of the “Alpha Couple’s” blistering journey toward divorce.
Oh fuck me, this cover’s ugly. It’s weird how such an aggressive seeming album, one in which Darnielle promises to jab us “in the eye with a foreign object,” opens with a little kitty-whimper of a song in “Southwestern Territory.” Still, there is a lot of bluster to “Beat the Champ,” but it never quite seems to rise to the challenge of some of the other Mountain Goats albums from the 2010s.
Amazingly, this and “Songs for Pierre Chuvin” came out mere months apart. They couldn’t sound more different. Whereas “Pierre Chuvin” is grating, brief and lo-fi, “Getting Into Knives” is jazzy, lush and thoroughly hi-fi. It’s classic recent Mountain Goats fare. Snarky lyrics. Catchy hooks. Darnielle screaming as often as he’s singing. There are some incredible singles like “Get Famous.” The issue here is, much like “Pierre,” there’s really nothing super new here. Also, it’s weird that this is where Darnielle decided to make some super long songs.
“OH MY GOD, it’s ‘GOING TO GEORGIA!’ OH MY GOD! OH…” Great. Yeah. We love “Going to Georgia,” don’t we folks. That’s… the song on here that TikTok made famous, huh. Nobody talked about this album forever and then TikTok made “Going to Georgia” big. You really like it. You know what… you really wanna know what, though, folks? We like “Going to Georgia” too. But this album has a lot of great stuff on it aside from that, the introduction of the should-be-divorced Alpha Couple, for instance, and the first and only full-length appearance of the backing group, The Bright Mountain Choir.
I don’t know how it wouldn’t be obvious to everyone that John Darnielle was one day going to make a “D&D” themed concept album, but of course he did. That’s not to say this is the audible equivalent of listening to a “Dungeons and Dragons” session. It’s far too quick and pleasant and the people making it seem at least tangentially aware of nudity. In all seriousness, “In League With Dragons” is pretty good all the way through. It’s one of Darnielle’s more personal albums, touching on his experiences with drugs. The opening track, “Done Bleeding” is a particularly good example of this. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with this album, but it feels pretty well-worn territory-wise by now.
Remember when this album came out and The Alamo Drafthouse used “Training Montage” in a trailer for their September 2022 lineup? Remember how fun it was watching Coraline’s Other Mother jump down her spider web while John sang: “I’M DOING THIS FOR REVENGE?” No? Just us? Did not a lot of you go to the Alamo Drafthouse in late August of last year? Hey… do not a lot of you have access (either proximity wise or financially) to an Alamo Drafthouse? No. Oh, fuck, well… this ain’t gonna work. Either way, this album came out at the right time for us. We’d all just started boxing to work on our anger issues and it felt great blasting this album on the ride home from the gym. 8/10 Fighting Mittens. Which is what we could call Boxing Gloves if we ever met Logan Paul, because it would really piss him off.
I have a little secret that I’m only going to share with you, don’t whisper a word of it to anyone, but I prefer this album to “Tallahassee.” And it’s not close. However… cultural legacy is important and blah, blah, blah, blah blah… there’s great stuff on here. And y’all overlook it because it came out in between “Tallahassee” and “The Sunset Tree?” Well… that’s fair. It’s tough being the shrimp between two whales. But seriously, when was the last time you truly listened to “Slow West Vultures?” When was the last time you sat and… listened? To anything? Or anyone? When was the last time anyone smiled when they saw you coming? When was the last time you did something for someone else? When was the last time you believed in Heaven? Did you stop believing once you realized you had lived a life bound to fall short of grace? What would that change, do you think? If you listened? Either way. “We are who we are. Get in the goddamn car.” Okay?
The Thunderbird was a legend among the indigenous peoples of North America said to be so large that it created thunderstorms when it flapped its wings. This was disproved in the ‘70s when two Thunderbirds attacked a small boy. Witnesses estimated the actual wingspan to be a mere 10 feet. If there’s one thing I can’t tolerate in a hookup, it’s lying about size.
Bigfoot’s weird Floridian cousin. Between his giant Pepe Le Pew-like appearance and the fact that he chooses to live in Florida, I’m betting Skunk Ape would come on a little strong for my taste. Buy a guy a drink first!
He’s the Bigfoot of Australia, and I’m a sucker for the accent, but the Yowie’s reputation for aggression and violence is kind of a turn-off. He must be a descendant of a Bigfoot criminal the other Bigfoots shipped down under when their prisons got too crowded.
Early reports of Trunko were wild. A giant polar bear-like fish with an elephant trunk? Sign me up! Unfortunately in 2010, some photos surfaced proving that Trunko was likely just a hunk of rotting whale flesh that washed up on shore. Humpable in an emergency, but not really my type.
This “creature” was the inspiration for what some consider to be the first found footage horror movie “The Legend of Boggy Creek.” He is described as being a large, hairy man-like creature with red eyes, but I’ve been to Arkansas, and it was probably just some dude.
A lake monster, like good ole Nessy, but this one resides in Burlington Vermont so he’s got a more crunchy/granola vibe. If I were still a teenager Champ would be a total dreamboat, but I’m done pretending to be into Phish no matter how big and scaly you are.
I’m not going to try and tell you that octopus sex wouldn’t be hot, we all know it is. I just think the Kraken must have a huge ego. He’s got his own rum, his own cryptocurrency, he’s in movies, he even has his own catchphrase, “Release the Kraken!” I’m looking to have sex with a crypto-zoological creature that’s a little more down to earth.
Africa is a hotbed for Cryptids that are probably just regular animals that haven’t been photographed yet. The African Peacock was considered a cryptid until its existence was confirmed in 1936. Sex with regular animals is wrong, but until they’ve been captured on film they are fair game! Please, no one photographed this undiscovered wild dog until I’ve had sex with it.
Selkies are mythical Scottish seals with the ability to shape-shift into humans. I guess that comes in handy if you enjoy sex with humans, which to be clear, I DON’T!
Wampanoag folklore tells of the Pukwudgie, a name that roughly translates to “little wild man of the woods that vanishes.” I’ve had my share of wild men in the woods that vanish. I’m looking for a cryptid that’s ready to commit.
Specimens of this giant water snake/sea horse hybrid have allegedly been captured live twice, but both times it was released back into the water. Sounds like a pretty checkered dating history, no thanks.
Some accounts of this centuries-old Russian cryptid have it that it’s a giant dragon-like creature that swallowed an entire airplane during WWII. Others say it’s just a larger-than-average beaver. I could maybe be persuaded into a hookup, but Brosno Dragon, you need to figure yourself out before you start thinking about a relationship.
I think I speak for all cryptosexuals when I say I’m more into chimeras with human bodies and animal heads, not the other way around. Besides, you don’t get your own ancient Egyptian monument without developing a pretty massive ego.
Glowing eyes and tendril-like fingers are sexy, but all the crypto-zoological sex in the world wouldn’t be hot enough to get me through another Massachusetts winter.
He’s a true mystery man. Reports of his appearance differ wildly, and there is some debate over whether he is an actual creature or the spirit of the river. In the early 20th century several expeditions were made to the Congo in an effort to find him, but those crypto-zoologists turned up nothing because they didn’t employ my technique — seduction.
Welsh mythology tells of this giant frog with bat wings and a long lizard-like tail with a stinger on the end. This nefarious creature uses these unholy attributes to… snap fishing line? Sorry, but I’m not sleeping with a cryptid that refuses to live up to its lethal potential.
I already know I’m going to catch flack for putting The Mothman so low on this list of cryptids I would like to have sex with. I get it. Seven feet tall, enormous wings, and glowing red eyes, he’s a hottie. I just can’t hear the name “Mothman” and not think about Richard Gere. It’s a mood killer. It’s not you Mothman, it’s me, okay?
According to legend, in 1735 a woman named Jane Leeds, frustrated upon learning she was pregnant with her 13th child, cursed her own pregnancy and declared her offspring would be “a devil.” She proceeded to birth a horse or goat-like creature with giant leathery bat wings, aka a total smoke-show. Unfortunately, this stud loses points on account of the fact that older men from New Jersey are notoriously selfish lovers.
Basically like the winged monkeys from “Wizard of Oz” but without wings. They’re just mean scary monkeys is all I’m saying. They also tend to travel in packs, and I’m just not really into the group thing anymore.
You might think a relationship between a human and a reptile-bird chimera is strange, which is why I’m glad Snallygaster lives near Baltimore. The residents of Charm City aren’t prudes, and they wouldn’t bat an eye at the two of us sharing crab cakes by the harbor, browsing around Atomic Books, and scooping helpless victims into the sky to drink their blood. It’s called being open-minded.
This serpentine lake monster is said to be 50 feet long and thicker than a telephone pole, so you know he’s and ideal lover, and he’s Canadian so you know he’s nice!
Deafheaven had been straddling the line between underground and mainstream at this point, but the rave reviews from NPR helped make this the kind of record that could win a Grammy and be sold as an impulse item at the Whole Foods checkout. The sudden softening of their sound is outright startling, and makes the heavier parts feel tacked on, rather than intrinsic to the songwriting. Chelsea Wolfe appears on one track (as well as roughly 65% of metal albums worth listening to that were made in the 2010s), harmonizing gorgeously with vocalist George Clarke’s suddenly clean vocals. By no means a bad record, but it lacks momentum and cohesion.
Every abrasive underground band is legally required to eventually put out one album that makes all the critics raise an eyebrow and say “Well, this is different!” This record completed the shift that Ordinary Corrupt Human Love had teased, pushing the dream pop/black metal ratio to something like 9:1. It’s like Beach House teamed up with Mogwai and they all binged on molly and early Mayhem records. The tracks are catchy and sexy as hell, but there’s a bland sameness that starts to creep in by the time you get to the halfway point. Whereas OCHL suffers from mild lack of cohesion, Infinite Granite suffers from mild homogeneity. While Clarke’s sudden banshee shrieks at the end of “Mombassa” gave some critics the vapors, that’s probably because they bought OCHL at Whole Foods three years earlier and never listened to anything else the band has ever done.
Deafheaven’s heaviest full-length. The band had just made themselves a reputation as too lightweight for the metalheads and too intense for the indie kids. But with New Bermuda, the band clearly wants to win over the metalheads; most of this thing sounds like molten steel boiling over in your speakers. And yet, there’s still a thoughtful sense of dynamic range. On opening track “Brought to the Water,” for a little over a minute, full-throttle white-knuckle metal gives way to waves of ethereal, chorus-saturated arpeggios. It’s a tantalizing glimpse of where the band’s next albums will go. But then, with a sudden whole-step descending hammer-on, it’s back to heavy-as-hell business as usual. We wanted to dock a point for the vinyl release being 2 LPs played at 45 RPM, because that’s weirdly annoying, but it still kicks hella ass.
Those slabs of abstract melody in the demo start to turn into something a little more refined here. Opener “Violet,” for instance, really takes its time with the ominously shimmering prelude before absolutely exploding a little past the four-minute mark. The whole album is basically a blueprint for taking the loud-quiet-loud dynamic of post-metal outfits like Isis and Pelican and Russian Circles, and raising the stakes several times over, fashioning a reliable-but-sometimes-tired routine into something uniquely unrestrained and emotive. Bonus points for the gorgeous cover art.
Deafheaven took their time putting out this unused track from the “Ordinary Corrupt Human Love” sessions, with no fanfare or promotion whatsoever, and it’s hard to believe that it didn’t make it onto the album. You could make the case that it just didn’t quite fit in with the other songs, and you wouldn’t be wrong, but only because it’s so much better than any of them. Thrashy, gnarly, in-your-face, and possibly the heaviest thing the band has ever made.
Look, we tried really REALLY hard to find a reason not to rank it number one, but this record broke the early 2010s metal scene wide open, leaving heavy music fans pondering whether they could abide an Abercrombie-model-looking lead singer shrieking about “your moon dreams of the dirt and the sharp tongue of your zealous will” over blast beats and tremolo picking. The artsy flourishes that give the album space to breathe are genuinely affecting too. One field recording of an unhinged street preacher is pure Godspeed You Black Emperor, and we mean that in the best possible way. Another recording of guitarist Kerry McCoy trying to score drugs with his last $60, played over a malevolent dirge, is equally haunting. But none of these little avant-garde gestures would add up to much if the music around them weren’t so viciously uncompromising. 24 seconds into album opener “Dream House,” when those chords drop, you’ll think you got hit by the sonic equivalent of a humanity-ending asteroid. If this isn’t the best metal album of its decade, it’s certainly the most important.
